


Gambling Woes

by The_Desert_Dancer



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Swearing, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Desert_Dancer/pseuds/The_Desert_Dancer
Summary: Some people have the luck of the draw, while others just have a seven-carat run of bad luck. For Courier Magnus, his luck has seemingly ran out when confronted with a slot machine.





	Gambling Woes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisMessIsAPlace (McFearo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McFearo/gifts).



> I owe a huge massive thank you to DJFero, given that his Courier Dixie Greene has hugely inspired me. Like the only reason Magnus even exists, is because of DJFero's creations. The guy is just one of the best content creators I have ever met and just has a fantastically creative mind, and deserves all the praise he can get.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!.” Magnus muttered. “Daddy needs some new threads.”

The Courier stared at the poker machine, watching the reels in the slot machine rolled by. The first reel came shuddering to a stop, landing on a scratched up red “7”. Magnus’ brown eyes widened and he could feel his heart fluttering, as the second reel landed on another red “7”. Holy shit, he was gonna do it!

“You do know that you can develop an addiction to gambling, right?” Arcade inquired, looking over at his friend. “And I’m not even going to mention the fact that you just referred to yourself as “Daddy”...”

“Arc, I’ve invested an hour on this machine, and I think I cracked it.” Magnus stated, waving his friend off. “Let me just have this moment, kay?”

“I’m just saying, I think you need to stop and have a break.” Arcade stated. “Go for a walk, get a drink, maybe even kill a Legionary?”

Magnus let out a small grunt and shook his head, as he drowned out Arcade and focused solely on the last reel. Time seemed to come to a screeching halt and everything fell silent, as the third reel slowed down, clicking past an Orange, a Grape, a Lemon, and landing on...

_A fucking cherry_

The Courier just sat on his plush chair, staring daggers at the fucking cherry at the end of his two 7’s. He had it, he fucking knew he had that roll. But this goddamn cherry just had to go and ruin everything.  
“Bullshit.” Magnus growled, running a hand through his long brown hair. “Its fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Well, you only had to spend 500 caps to learn that lesson.” Arcade retorted.

The Courier felt a pressure on his arm, as Arcade grabbed Magnus by his arm and began pulling at him gently. Shaking his head slightly, Magnus got up from his seat, which was quickly occupied by some schlub of a man who smelt of dirt and sweat. A dull throb started to build up within Magnus’ skull; the noise was getting too loud, the lights were too bright and his heart was beating way too fast.

“Mag, you need to get out of here?” Arcade asked, seemingly sensing Magnus’ stress.

“M’fine.” Magnus muttered, shaking his head. “Just need to lie down for a bit.”

“Holy shit!” A new voice shouted. “I got me a jackpot!”

Arcade and Magnus whipped their heads around, startled by the sudden exclamation. That sweaty schlub was standing up, hooting and hollering, as the slot machine spit out a plethora of chips. Before Arcade knew what was happening, he found himself making a beeline straight for the sweating guy stuffing Chips into his pockets.

“Nice haul?” Magnus asked.

“Hey buddy, guess it’s my lucky day!” The sweaty man stated, turning to face Magnus. “Gotta be at least 500 chips in here!”

“500 chips, eh?” Magnus muttered.

“Wanna have a go at the machine?” The sweaty man asked. “More’n happy to share the good fortunes!”

“Oh, why thank you.” Magnus responded, a cold smile on his face.

Arcade knew something was about to happen; he could tell by the wild look in Magnus’ eyes and the way he was smiling. It looked like how a predator would smile, when it had finally cornered its prey. The Courier stared at the slot machine, looking at the one-armed bandit as if it had personally fucked the young man over, before grabbing the machine and lifting it in the air. A hush fell over the entire casino, as everyone turned and watched Magnus lifting the slot machine into the air, before dropping it straight onto the ground. A loud crunch sound reverberated throughout the Tops, as the slot machine crumpled like paper, chips spilling out of it like blood from an open wound. Magnus stared at the ruined slot machine, his breath coming out in quick huffs and a scowl etched onto his face.

“Oh shit, this is not good.” Arcade muttered, as Tops bodyguards descended on Magnus, like moths to a flame.

* * *

 

“Breaking Strip property? Attacking workers? Nearly causing war to break out between the NCR and I?” Mr House listed off, disapproval dripping from every word. “It appears that somebody has had a very busy day.”

“Yeah, I know it sounds bad.” Magnus answered. “But see, this is what-”

“I should not be surprised, given your...track record. Destruction seems to follow your every step.” Mr House continued, barreling over whatever Magnus was going to say. “But I was always willing to look over your brutal methods, as you always produced results for me. But I will not have you bringing your destruction into my Strip and threatening to ruin everything I’ve built.”

“But House-”

“You will be paying for the destroyed slot machine and anything else you ruined today.” Mr House continued. “And you are banned from entering any of the casinos unless you have my express permission. And do not try and sneak in, because I will know about it. You’re quite lucky, Magnus. I am not usually such a forgiving boss.”

“But listen!” Magnus growled.

“We have nothing else to discuss, Magnus.” Mr House stated, a firm tone to his voice. “If I need you for another job, Victor will inform you. Good day.”

Mr House’s screen turned dark, with the only thing Magnus seeing was his scowling face in the reflection. The Courier turned and marched towards the elevator, feeling his blood boiling and his heart racing. Magnus wanted to punch something. Or rather, someone. Specifically a casino-running computer asshole by the name of Robert House….

“Fuck this noise.” Magnus grumbled, as he entered the elevator. “And fuck this place.”


End file.
